


Left of the Middle

by fuzipenguin



Category: The Faculty (1998)
Genre: M/M, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 16:29:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3417641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things are a little too perfect, afterwards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Left of the Middle

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at my livejournal on 7/19/07. Written for the springkink prompt of 'Zeke/Casey - Changes - Everything changes for some reason or another.'

     After the alien, it was if all the new starts denied him throughout the years came flooding into his life at once, touching everyone in it, changing them, changing him. Stan was studying, Stokely was wearing pastels, Delilah held his hand in hers, and Zeke caught footballs and the eye of Miss Burke. It was good, it was safe; it was everything high school should be.

     It was good for a month, two, until one day Casey said, lying, he had film to develop and crept up the bleachers to sit on the top row to stare out over the football field. It was drizzling, very lightly, so when Zeke walked up the steps, long legs taking them two at a time, his brown hair was gleaming with small pearls of moisture.

     They sat silently side by side long past the bell signaling start of next class. The sky continued to weep softly, until the boys’ shoulders went beyond damp.

      “You’re missing English,” Zeke commented finally, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his front jeans pocket. He stared down at them lying limply in his lap, where he had let them fall.

      “So are you. Miss Burke will wonder where you are.”

      “Yeah.” Zeke didn’t sound particularly concerned. “You ever think things are more fucked up now than before Mary Beth came?” he asked.

      Casey held out a cupped hand and watched moisture slowly coat his palm. “Like someone hit a reset button but took it too far?” Out of the corner of his eye, Casey saw Zeke nod thoughtfully.

      “You’re Theory Boy.”

      “And you’re Action Guy.” Casey had a sudden flash of Zeke yielding a makeshift blade like some sort of playstation action hero.

      Zeke turned to look at him, a familiar smirk lifting his lips. “Yeah, guess I am.”

      A rumble of thunder and a flash of lightening made them both look into the sky, clouds angry gray and rolling in fast from the west. The steady drizzle changed in a heartbeat to a heavy downpour, soaking their clothes and turning Casey’s paper lunch bag into a soggy brown sludge. The younger boy didn’t move, but Zeke stood up and stepped down to the next row. He paused, lifting his face to the sky, and if Casey had had his camera, it would have been in his hands at the sight of the water pouring down Zeke’s face, his eyes closed and expression peaceful.

      Casey’s breath caught between one inhale and the next, making his chest ache. The throbbing grew more insistent as Zeke leaned across the bleacher, took Casey’s face in his hands, and pressed their mouths together. In the chill of dropping temperatures and pounding rain, the only source of warmth was their lips, their tongues, and Zeke’s fingers stroking the fragile prominence of Casey’s jaw. It was a single moment, another change in a long, tumultuous series of changes, but this one was right, just shy of the middle.

      Zeke drew back, and his smirk was still present but gentler, and Casey felt an answering tug at his lips.

      “Action Guy, huh?”

      “When there’s a good theory to act on. You’ll let me know if you come up with any more, right?”

      Casey nodded and briefly squeezed Zeke’s wrist as it dropped from Casey’s face.

      “See you later. Don’t stay out too long. You never know what the rain will bring.”

      Zeke left, his footfalls on the metal bleachers echoing dully in the rain. Casey watched Zeke go, new haircut sagging under the weight of so much water and dripping wetness into his eyes, spilling onto his cheeks and down over his tingling lips.

      “Change,” Casey whispered. “It brings change.” He raised his own face to the lightening-laced sky, and he suspected that his expression was now just as peaceful as Zeke’s had been moments before. 

  


~End

 


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